


Halfway, More or Less

by blueskyscribe



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-14
Updated: 2018-06-14
Packaged: 2019-05-23 04:57:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14927552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueskyscribe/pseuds/blueskyscribe
Summary: Breakdown has never really understood his partner.  But that's all right.





	Halfway, More or Less

_“How_   you ask is just as important as _what_ you ask for,” Knock Out had once said, and Breakdown had found this to be true.

For example, if he’d said, “I’m going to check out those distress calls,” Knock Out would have said, “Oh yes?” with that fake interested look of his and stayed on the _Nemesis_.  

But when Breakdown said, “I’m gonna drive around off-ship. Found some really smooth roads. Might find some spare parts or something while I'm out there," Knock Out had bounced out of his chair back and said, "Oh yes?  And where are we headed, exactly?"

The 'spare parts' were, of course, Vehicons.  A small scouting party had run into an Autobot patrol and judging by the comms, full of blasterfire and havoc, the encounter had ended like they usually did.

It was understood between them that Knock Out would lend his medical expertise on the search . . . just as it was understood that the expertise of Decepticon medics lay as much in the ending in life as in the saving of it.  Breakdown didn't like it, but it's not like anyone had ever asked him his opinion.

"Generics.  What's the point?" Knock Out complained, tossing a limp corpse at Breakdown's pedes.

"I dunno," Breakdown said, leaning to pick up the chassis.  He recognized this guy.  Had a big weld across his back.  A month ago he'd been the only one in his squadron to survive an Autobot attack. "Nothing, maybe.  What's the point of anything?"

"Ha!  You said it."

As Knock Out strode ahead, Breakdown shifted, pulling the dead Vehicon against his breast before slinging him over his shoulder to join the other two.  As macabre as his load was, it had been a net win for the Vehicons so far. They'd found four survivors; Lightflight, Blast, and Rift had all been bleeding out and Backfire had merely been unconscious in a ditch. Backfire's predicament had clearly amused Knock Out, and he had patched up the others with an efficiency that was impersonal but not cruel before sending them back to wait in the medbay.  

That was generous, for him.  Knock Out hated dealing with patients and three of the Vehicons had serious injuries that would require multiple surgeries—and still leave them disadvantaged enough that they would be even more likely to expire on the battlefield.  In a way, Breakdown understood why Knock Out preferred to cut out the middleman.

Breakdown sometimes wondered if Megatron knew just how many Vehicons the medic had offlined.  Bringing "mercy" to severely injured patients was part of a Decepticon medic's job, sure, but Knock Out tended to be . . . over-charitable.  Especially when he had a movie he wanted to watch, a race he wanted to participate in, or was just plain bored with work. But it wasn't like the old days when Shockwave was pumping platoon after platoon of newly minted Vehicon soldiers out of his factories.  What they had was what they had.

Breakdown had once tested this line of reasoning with Knock Out.  Argued that he should have more occupied med berths and less occupied morgue slabs.

"We'll all die someday, Breakdown," he'd said, and with one solid swing decapitated the Vehicon who'd been begging and bleeding on the pallet.  Breakdown still felt guilty over that one; if he hadn't said anything Knock Out might have fixed the soldier. But he hated being pushed.

 _It's how you ask,_ Breakdown thought as he tromped after Knock Out.  Thinking about that poor fragger from way back wasn't gonna bring him back to life, so he pushed that out of his mind and focused on tracking down the final Vehicon who was still missing and, he hoped, alive.

Even if he was dead, though, he had to be found and returned to the ship.  Wasn't safe to leave bodies out here, not with _Silas_ around.  Breakdown scowled at the memory, then scowled harder when he remembered that Bulkhead had saved him.  Ugh. Seriously?

"Why are you making faces at the ocean?" Knock Out laughed.

"No reason."  He steadied the empty frames on his shoulder and—because he could—rested his free hand on his partner's shoulder.  Knock Out leaned back against Breakdown's hand and relaxed into his touch when the bruiser massaged an oversized thumb over his wheel strut.  Romantic displays were not exactly _forbidden_ on the _Nemesis_ , just . . . discouraged.  Strongly, strongly discouraged.

Including by the medic himself. "We have to be careful," Knock Out had said in a sotto voice when they were first assigned to the ship. "Soundwave hears everything.  We can't afford to look weak." Breakdown had pulled him close, warm metal pressed together and said, "Let 'im see. You think bein' together looks weak?"

Knock Out, crushed unresistingly in his embrace, had looked up and said, his voice so serious: "Yes."

Breakdown's frame had been broken every possible way over the years and that was okay.  Injuries healed and scars were cool. The only one that would never scab over was that one word that had slid straight to his spark.  He could see in Knock Out's optics that he knew it and regretted it and meant it, and he was not sure if he had ever quite forgiven his partner for that or if he ever could.  But over time he came to accept it.

And it had turned out okay, in the end, right?  Here was Knock Out now, content and relaxed and even reaching up to touch him, and to be honest Breakdown would have forgiven Knock Out if he'd murdered an entire platoon of Vehicons right in front of him.  His hands tightened on Knock Out's hips enough to make them creak and when the gleaming red sports car batted them away, it was only to turn in his arms and kiss him.

Knock Out ran a hand down Breakdown's back and came away with a palmful of congealed energon, the dripping remains of the Vehicons' lifeblood.  

"Hm, you're a mess," Knock Out said.  A statement that often meant Knock Out would have nothing to do with Breakdown until he cleaned up but _it's how you say it_ and Knock Out said it with a playful smile and Breakdown shrugged the dead Vehicons off with a clatter and reached for his partner—

The scanner started beeping, announcing the discovery of another Vehicon spark.  Both bots looked at the machine and it was hard to say which of them was more annoyed.  Knock Out leaned over to jab the off button, but Breakdown bent over and picked up the scanner before he could.

"Faint signal," Knock Out said in a carefully neutral tone underpinned with just a hint of hope.

"Yeah," Breakdown said, studying the screen. He paused, but his searches for the right words rarely bore fruit, so he gave a shrug and bulldozed forward:  "I'm gonna check along the shore." Maybe Knock Out was right, they were 'just' genericons, but someone was lost out there, dying maybe.

Knock Out grumbled wordlessly, then let out a heavy vent with a far more elegant shrug of his own. "Well, I'd better get back to the medbay before my _guests_ bleed all over the decor."

As Breakdown looked down at the resignation in his partner's optics and the wry smile on his face, a strange thought came into his head: maybe there were things Knock Out had come to accept, too.  "Okay."


End file.
